Hammer and Thunder
by LordJaffa
Summary: A re-write of Percy Jackson with a different father and a darker past.
1. Hammer and Thunder

**Hi, this is my first fanfic. Woo. If anyone wants to read more, I'll write more - it would be a darker and more 'realistic' take on Rick Riordans fantasy world (in the sense that there's blood, mortals may die, things are sad and not partitioned into everything-happens-in-the-summer). Leave a comment telling my I'm bad, I don't mind, but any positive or constructive comments will definitely help enthuse me into writing more. I grew up with these books, and would love to write more but I just need a little push :) Anyway, here's my little pilot/teaser. Jaffa out.**

Rain hammered the mud-ridden road, driving rivulets of water into sweeping rivers of slick dirt that swirled around the duellists, standing as if they were stone amid the roaring wind. Dark fur, matted by grime and gristle whipped in the tempest, gargantuan muscles and tendons trembling in anticipation. Below great horns, chipped and worn by countless blades, the eyes of the beast blazed with malice and finality at the man before it. He stood less than half of the monsters height, but undaunted by the wind and rain; lithe and broad, strong muscles defined by his soaked shit. His gaunt posture forged rigid by the battle ahead, once proud shoulders hunched in preparation. For months he had waited for this moment; for his vengeance. The full weight of his anger and loss burned through his haunted gaze – like a blazing sun unveiled by unwilling clouds, totally at odds with his calm demeanour. Hoofs stirred, clouds of steam billowing from flared nostrils as sheets of lightning brought the sky crashing down. The man inhaled slowly, with the slightest tremor as his lungs filled.

His weight shifted, the balls of his feet grinding laterally into the treacherous surface for greater purchase. The air smoothly left him, this time without trace of unease as his eyes narrowed. The wind grew quiet. A great baying filled the air as the beast lurched into movement, bunching thighs driving great cloven feet into the arena with muted thuds. The man didn't move. His heart beat faster with every bound, his breath following suite as adrenaline flooded every inch of his being. Time slowed; the enemy moved with languorous rage, horns bearing upon him. The earth shuddered as the minotaur charged; accelerating faster than any observer could react, traversing their separation in seconds as the wind picked up, bringing more lashing rain and rumbling thunder. With consummate and practiced ease, he slipped to the side and the behemoth charged past, triumphant roar cut short by enraged snorts. It wheeled around, catching sight of the slim figure as he stood, poised and ready to fight. This time, they both moved; a tall man, rendered minute by his opponents' raw power and scale ran without hesitation towards certain annihilation.

The slow mind of the beast finally ticked over, and it stretched its great arms out to prevent the same mistake, putting them right where he wanted them. It bellowed as the man leapt forward, kicking off from the driving knee of the beast into the air, somersaulting over and grasping the horns firmly; The shaggy head, poised to skewer and throw, was torn back as the hooved feet slipped on mud. Its enraged roar became a startled howl as the creature fell back, crashing into the ground with a bone shattering thud and the hero rolled and regained his feet, walking slowly away from the beast with clenched fists. His path arced back, his fair face a mask of cold fury tempered by concentration turned towards the winded monster as it staggered to its hooves. He was within reach; filthy eyelids narrowed and a clawed fist swung with staggering speed through the air where his head had been, a strong arm – dwarfed by the colossal beasts - wrapped around the joint and twisted. The fist went awry, forced by its own momentum and the torque from the man's effort back and down, hauled behind the hairy back and beyond its natural movement. A shattering crack split the air as bones broke and tendons tore, joined by pained howls. He let it stagger forward, its eyes now burning with unbridled hatred and filled with pain as it swung around. A leg swept forward, catching a hoof and bringing the beasts weight down onto its knee.

Thunder crashed in synchronicity with a blinding flash, and the mans foot slammed into the monsters jaw before it could react. It fell onto its back, tongue lolling between a crushed jaw. He stood over it, impassive as the monster cried out in agony and rolled onto its side. The good arm gave way, the beasts breath cut short as it slammed into the ground on its front. Involuntarily, its head was forced back by strong hands gripping the reddened horns.

"You're the last." Spoke a calm voice, its tone moderated so well it could only be hiding intense passion.

"The rest have fallen. You're the last one." The words were accompanied by a sharp tug on the horns, drawing an anguished groan from its throat.

"I saved you till last." The voice rasped, closer now to the war-torn ears, the careful synthesis of the voice broken by fury. A horn cracked from the immense weight, breaking off and slamming the beasts' cheek against the road. Its final breaths blew water and mud away into a starburst pattern. A chattering gasp forced its way from the bloody lips as the horn pierced its former masters heart. Huge muscles grew still as the fear and pain drained from the beasts' eyes, its form falling into sand and washing away as the crater in the chest grew, slowly engulfing the entire body. The man stood amidst the dissolving foe, watching the waste drain from between his feet and wash downstream. He drew in a deep, uneven breath; releasing it in a sharp sigh and squaring his shoulders. He turned away, his face warmed by the sun now peering through the dispersing clouds over the tall hill, a shadow thrown almost to him by a tree at its peak.

The hunt was over.

And the hunted won.


	2. Unravelling

**I'm assuming people who are reading this have read the Percy Jackson books, so know the story and characters. I want to use that to create a different feel, i.e. the 'unknown' aspect being the character of Perseus Jackson rather than the other characters and the story – so I want to do it from a range of perspectives, from 3** **rd** **to 1** **st** **person following different characters around Perseus without following Perseus himself. For now. I also want to explore the more subtle aspects of the books, such as the Percy/Annabeth/Luke love triangle, friendships with other campers and other things… Anyway, enjoy. Leave a review if you want more.**

A soft knock drew my attention from my book. Reluctantly, I looked away from a fascinating anthology of winged monsters towards the external door to my private room. A nervous face, framed by dark curled hair and surmounted by delicate horns peered into the unevenly lit room. I half-forced a smile at the shy satyr.

"Chiron's asked for you at the Big House." He said, gently. Why? I frowned slightly. It was before breakfast, and there weren't any scheduled meetings.

"Thanks. I'll go right away." I replied. "Do you know why he wants me?"

"Grover's back – he was carried over the border by some guy this morning, soaked and injured" came the uneasy response. My breath caught slightly – Grover had been out on an assignment for the past four months, Chiron wouldn't even tell me why.

"Is he ok?" I said as I tossed the book aside and sprang to my feet, throwing on my running trainers and scraping my unwieldy hair into a loose ponytail.

"Chiron says he'll be fine. I need to get back to the kitchens before breakfast, so…" his voice trailed off as he started backing out of the room.

"Thanks." The door shut and I stretched, trying to dispel the stiffness in the muscles along my spine. I half-smiled. Grover was back – injuries didn't really matter when Chiron was around – and I hadn't seen him in ages.

The sky was clear above the camp, as it always was – although dark clouds were dispersing over the wooded hills where usually the only vapours were a slight mist rising from the trees. Warmth flooded my senses as I stepped out into the early light and jogged lightly towards the tall farmhouse at the head of the valley. Most cabins were still silent – the Demeter campers were busy fussing with their crops, and the Aphrodite cabin lights were on as the airheads within performed their daily fight for mirror time.

As I drew closer to the house, I began to make out the small gathering on the porch. Mr D was definitely the portly figure sitting aside from the others at the table, a signature can in his hand. Chiron sat in his chair – he didn't like to tower over the people he was talking to. Two others sat at the table, indistinguishable at this range and partially concealed by the porch roof supports. I slowed to a walk and hopped up the stairs two at a time. Now I could make out the full party: Dionysus, sipping moodily from a can of Coke and scowling at a hand of cards; Chiron ignored his cards, focusing instead on the others around the table. Grover sat awkwardly on the edge of his chair, one furred leg bound tightly with white bandages. He glanced nervously between Chiron and the fourth person.

He sat confidently, leaning back in his chair and looking right at me with stormy eyes; deep grey with bolts of blue. Dark, near black hair was cut almost to the skull at the sides and middling length at the top, looking for all the world as if it had just been stylishly blown back over his head by a hairdressing wind god. The face beneath it was… well formed. All demigods are usually good looking (depending on their godly parent), and he was no exception. Ugh – I'm not a daughter of Aphrodite, don't expect a full description and accompanying drooling.

No-one else had even noticed me; I moved quietly, like always – even when visible. Then I saw the horn. Sat on the desk beside a large hand, its tip stained red with blood. The deadly shape terminating at the other end in a cracked and shattered mess. It wasn't from a cow - Whoever this guy was, he was a fighter.

"Annabeth!" Grover exclaimed, eyes widening as he jerked upright. Chiron stopped mid-sentence, something about meal schedules. Dionysus sighed loudly, drawing everyone's gaze. He threw his cards down, a losing hand – then looked up, seemingly surprised by the attention.

"Ah, Annabelle. Good to… hmm." He frowned at his now empty can before tossing it. It vanished over his shoulder, another can appearing on a coaster by his hand. He then frowned at that, muttering under his breath about wine. Chiron stared at him for a few more seconds, then turned back me.

"Good morning, Annabeth. I'm sorry to bring you here so early, but I have a task for you." Chiron smiled before adding: "And I thought you would want to see Grover as soon as possible."

"Morning." I smiled back at him and the shy satyr, trying not to stare at his injury. "New camper?" I asked. The fourth member raised an eyebrow, so slightly I barely saw it, and smirked.

"Of sorts." Chiron replied. "This is Perseus Jackson."

"Unclaimed?"

"For now. I'd like you to give him a tour and show him to the Hermes cabin." Great. Acting as a tour guide to the newbie. Why would Chiron ask me? There are plenty of satyrs, or daughters of Aphrodite for that matter, who would be happy to show him around. Unless… Maybe. I gave the newcomer another look; he was staring off down the valley towards the cabins now, arms crossed. The rippled skin of his forearms was marred by a number of scars, deep and broad from blocking swords and claws with his bare arms. The kind of scars you only get from desperately covering your face or body from a flaying attack – I have a few of my own, but nowhere near the severity.

"Sure. I'll get him settled in before breakfast." I replied, thinking. The only fathomable reason Chiron would ask me to do such a menial task was to tell me something. I glanced at Grover – his smile had dissolved into a slight frown of worry. Chiron seemed to pick up on it, wheeling his chair towards the ramp at the side of the stairs.

"Come, Perseus – I'll show you to the training arena. Annabeth will join us there and take you on the tour." Perseus – was that really his name? It seems a bit on the nose – rose from his seat with ease. He towered over me; he had to be at least six foot five, and as he inhaled deeply and stretched his shoulders I couldn't help giving his torso a…cursory look. His aforementioned shoulders were accentuated by a tapering waist and narrow hips, surmounted by strong arms. I couldn't help but admire the muscle tone; heavy muscle but nowhere near enough to slow him down, and barely any body fat. I forced myself to look away as he twisted to pick up the broken horn and followed Chiron down the ramp and towards the arena. When I turned back, Dionysus was gone – only the slight scent of grapes remaining. Grover struggled to his hoofs, hobbling towards me. I grinned; it was good to see him.

"Where have you been?" I exclaimed, hugging him.

"On assignment – bringing Percy in." he said, pulling back. Bringing him in? Usually Grover would call it 'guarding' or 'watching over'. The distinctly police-like language was unusual.

"Bringing him in?" I repeated, frowning.

"Yeah – he… uh, it's complicated. Be careful around him, Annabeth – he's not the usual demigod." Not the usual demigod. More and more reason to think that he could be the one I was told about. I frowned.

"What do you mean? Who's his parent?" Grover shook his head, pursing his lips.

"He wouldn't want me to say anything, he's…uh, you'd better go. They'll be waiting for you." Grover stammered, averting his gaze. My frown grew deeper, but the look on his face told me not to ask any more questions. I nodded slowly, turning and starting in the direction Chiron took a few moments earlier. Whilst it wasn't exactly unusual for Grover to clam up like this, I could usually get him to talk – but this seemed important. Anyway, I can figure it out later. I drew near the arena, still deep in thought about Grover's words, and turned to where Chiron was talking to Perseus by one side of the arced seating. They'd barely been there for more than a minute. It was still early morning, and the arena was quiet, but the camp was stirring down the valley as breakfast approached. As I neared, Chiron nodded to Perseus and moved away, wheeling towards me and back to the Big House. As he passed, he quietly murmured.

"Be careful." With a small encouraging smile, he picked up his pace and moved past me. At this point, I'm feeling slightly apprehensive – whoever this guy is, he's got everyone jumpy. As I got close, he pushed off the stone step and slowly stepped towards me.

With all the build-up, his size didn't make him any less intimidating. I'm tall, just under six foot, and he made me feel small – and there was something else. A feeling I couldn't really place before with Dionysus and Chiron nearby, but clicked as his eyes met mine. Power. A sensation, like the charged air before a lightning strike, filled his presence; a feeling I'd only felt before on Olympus, in the hall of the gods. Even Dionysus didn't radiate this kind of… aura. I started to feel what Grover was talking about: this wasn't your average demigod. And if I can sense this guy's not a mortal, then I'm willing to bet he's had to deal with a lot of monsters. Judging from the horn still held loosely in one hand, not the usual low-level stuff either.

"So, you're called Perseus." I started, taking care to modulate my voice to show none of the intimidation I felt. He smiled slightly, looking down the valley with a slightly rueful expression.

"Not my choice." He replied. His voice was deep, effortlessly rumbling through his chest. The feeling of a god-like presence grew, but his words made him seem more human. I relaxed slightly, nodding.

"So, I guess Chiron showed you the arena?" he nodded once, looking back at the structure.

"Good building. Reminds me of the Theatre of Dionysus, actually" he said, smiling slightly at the name. The more he spoke, the less I recognised his accent – it was American, but without any regional lilt. Then again, most demigods travel a lot before they come to Camp Half Blood.

"I think it's based on it. Although it sees a lot more combat than plays – you can see the eleven cabins from here. Hades doesn't get one, for obvious reasons, and four are always empty. Artemis, Hera, Poseidon and…Zeus." He nodded in reply.

"Bad things happen when the big three have kids" he said, quietly. I looked at him sideways, then started walking towards the cabins.

"yeah. Anyway, I'll show you the toilets and showers, then where you'll be staying until you get claimed. If you're lucky." I didn't say it as a threat, but he gave me an inquisitive, even annoyed, look.

"What do you mean, if?" He asked, frowning. I couldn't help but notice how easily he kept pace with me, and the feeling of apprehension grew again.

"Some gods aren't… involved with their mortal children. At all. And since only the major Olympians have cabins here, the minor gods don't usually bother to claim their kids. They all end up in Hermes either way." He looked back at the cabins.

"That's not how it should be." He stated.

"Yeah, well. It's how it is." I replied.

Aside from the usual immaturity from Aphrodite campers, we passed most of the cabins without incident. I showed him the shower block, some early risers taking advantage of the empty camp.

Then we came to Ares. They were always up early, playing soldiers. This'll be interesting, at least. I'll see what this guy can do in a fight - I'd be lying if I said I didn't hope this would happen. Clarisse saw us. I could almost see her angry little eyes light up at the sight of a new camper. Shouting to a few choice cronies, she advanced. I faked an exasperated sigh, turning to Perseus. At least they're predictable.

"Sorry about this. They like their rituals." I apologised, analysing his face. He half smiled.

"We'll see." He replied, smugly – gesturing for me to stay where I was and moving forwards a few paces. That made me actually look forward to the inevitable beating, not just the information I would gain from it. The jogging meatheads surrounded him in a half-circle, four muscle bound guys almost as wide as they were tall. Clarisse stepped forward, a sick smile on her face. I couldn't see Perseus' face, but he stood casually and loose.

"This is Ares' camp. You want to stay, you do it under our rules." She guttered in a voice that was probably supposed to be intimidating. The other thugs grinned like morons, trying their hardest to look dangerous. To be fair to them, they were - their father wasn't the god of war for nothing - but their bark was invariably worse than their bite.

"Strange. I thought that Zeus would be in charge." The newcomer replied, cocking his head to one side. Clarisse sneered in response. I moved further back to watch from a safe distance.

"Wrong answer, maggot." She spat, moving forward, her allies moving forward.

"Didn't know it was a question." Came the distracted response, his concentration taken by forming his stance into one of readiness. Clarisse barked angrily, waving her minions on. Two came at the lone defender, both bulky males. Although they were a good head shorter than Perseus, they were built like trucks. Here it comes.

The first one swung wildly, aiming for Perseus' stomach as the other circled behind. Perseus stepped beyond the punch, turning so his back fully faced the other assailant. This wouldn't take long. The second moron jumped forward, aiming to grapple the taller combatant's arms. Faster than I thought such a large being could move, Perseus swung round, a long leg flashing out and catching Moron No.2 in the stomach. He doubled over, gasping as his arms wrapped over his injury. Moron No.1 yelled out, charging wildly as the other two minions joined the fray. Perseus sunk into a ready stance: Legs out wide, weight on the balls of his feet and arms akimbo. Three idiots charged in simultaneously. Perseus swung into action, spinning around with the grace of a dancer. His foot lashed out, smashing into the closest one's chin. One down. Another moved in at full speed, low down and arms outstretched for a tackle. Perseus reacted quickly, meeting the attacker shoulder to shoulder. Despite being at a huge disadvantage due to the momentum of the tackler, he barely moved an inch as they crashed together. The shorter man was as bulky as Moron No.1 and No.2, but that extra mass didn't seem to help as Perseus twisted at the waist, throwing him to the ground with little effort. Moron No.4, I think, leapt onto Perseus' exposed back, wrapping his stubby arms around the defenceless neck. Still, the newbie did well to last this long. Wait, what? Perseus seemed unaffected by the unwelcome passenger, turning again to face Moron No.1 who had been watching after his failed effort a few moments before. The attacked moved in slowly, fists ready. Perseus moved in for the attack, covering the distance between them in a few strides. What was he going to do? He was weighed down by a sack of muscle and precious few braincells and can't move very quickly. Oh. That – he threw his weight forward, and with the aid of his arms catapulted the backpack moron over his head and feet first into Moron No.1. Arms twisting around the newcomers' neck, his grip breaking as he flew into a heap with the other moron.

Perseus straightened. Where once the ground was clear, now there were piles of moron. Clarisse, as irritating as she can be, is a good counsellor - she knelt by her campers, looking up at Perseus with a look of undisguised hatred as she checked them over.

"You'll pay for this, newbie" she spat, helping a winded airhead to his feet.

"Looking forward to it." Perseus smiled, turning his back on the conquered Ares campers. So, he's still smug, but he can fight. Whether he's the one I don't know, but he could be useful in the short term. Capture the flag this Friday could be interesting.

I must've had a thoughtful look on my face as I lead Perseus towards the Hermes cabin, because as he easily kept pace beside me he turned his head.

"You look as if you're planning my fate." He said quietly. I half-smiled.

"I am, for the short term anyway." I replied. He snorted.

"Typical child of Athena." Came the reply. Ha, very funny. I gave a snort of my own. True, though.

It was getting close to breakfast when we reached the Hermes cabin, the campers mostly awake and starting to spill out of the packed building. I could just see Luke through the milling assortment. He spotted us as we realised the futility of trying to push our way through the doorway. A wide smile split his marred face, growing closer as he pushed and yelled his way through the throng. A slight thrill ran through me as he jogged up to us, my mouth forming a smile without my permission.

"Annabeth! Good to see you. Who's the new guy?" He enquired jovially, offering his hand to Perseus. After a moment's hesitation, he took it. I couldn't help but feel a little odd, seeing the two of them together. Why though? Luke is… like my brother, and I don't even know Perseus. They _are_ both… Gods, I'm not a daughter of Aphrodite – that line of thought doesn't merit any more of my time.

"This is Perseus Jackson, unclaimed." I said, the slightest waver in my voice. Get it together. "Perseus, this is Luke Castellan, Hermes Counsellor. You'll be staying in his cabin for now." I forced out. Perseus nodded in reply, his head jerking to look up the valley as the conch shell sounded for breakfast. The congregation around us started moving away. Luke gestured for us to follow him into the now empty cabin. Bedrolls far outnumbered the beds, spread over virtually every inch of the floor. Luke kicked a few aside and, having opened an overflowing trunk and fished out a sleeping bag, threw it down on the floor. He paused, looking back at Perseus, then down at the barely five-foot space.

"Hmm. We might have to think of another way to get you some sleep later. But, we should get to breakfast – unless you want the leftovers." He joked, leading the way. Perseus laid the horn down on his bed.

"You might not want to do that" I started, looking at Luke with an apologetic glance. He gave his usual lopsided grin, telling me he didn't take any offence.

"She's right. Children of the god of thieves and all that." He laughed. "Stuff tends to go missing around here." Luke added.

"They can take it off my hands for all I care." Perseus shrugged. Unusual – most people would kill for a trophy like that, if it's what I think it is. Not that anyone would try, come to think of it – news of the brawl would've already spread around the mess hall. Speaking of the fight, I needed to talk to Luke about teams for Friday.


	3. Introduction

**A lot of books aimed at the teenage/kid part of the market feature a main character who's pretty average, unknowledgeable and unskilled in order to let the maximum number of readers empathise with them and to allow for character development; since Rick Riordan already did that, I want to make a main character who's a little more mysterious and unique. I always liked the Jack Reacher books (not the films, screw Tom Cruise and his scientology BS) because the character Jack Reacher was a giant (unlike little Tommy). So, big 'ol Perseus. I also want Beckendorf to be a much bigger character – I always liked him and, although I like Grover, thought he'd be a better 3** **rd** **member of the quest gang. He also conveniently fills the 'engineery-buildy-fighty' slot that Tyson leaves in book 2, as Tyson may be hard to integrate into this story. But I like the big old one-eye too, so I may slip him in somewhere. How much Grover features and Beckendorf's fate is yet to be decided. Dun dun duuun. Expect some of my thought process at the beginning of most chapters, and leave a review (please, oh gods please) telling me what you do and don't like about the story or my preamble tidbits – which I notice are becoming Mark Whatney like, which I don't see as a problem. Anyway, here's a shortish one I wrote today. Only started three days ago so I'm releasing as I go, but I think I'll start writing more at a time, then editing and releasing it in chunks. Enjoy. Maybe. Your choice.**

The shield segment sprang out of its socket, clattering to the floor. I knew it was ambitious, trying to squeeze a full shield into such a small space – even with magic. I sighed, placing the mangled half-built contraption on my workbench. Zoning out of my personal world of gears and machinery, I glanced at the other workbenches around the shop. Sons and daughters of Hephaestus were busy forging weapons, trinkets and toys - they always were. Part of being good at building things is enjoying doing it. We could mostly make want we wanted, the odd favour or request from fellow campers – as well as the never-ending task of maintaining and replacing the training weapons. Today, the shop was quiet – most were just tinkering with their own projects. It'd get more busy after the mornings combat training ended, just like always.

Cracking my neck as I leaned back, I checked my hopefully-soon-to-be-replaced watch. Above the exquisite and naked gears, the hands read exactly eleven thirty-nine. Annabeth had asked me to meet her by the lake around now. Not sure why – she'd been acting weirdly since the new guy came and beat up a bunch of Ares campers. Probably thinks he's a son of Zeus or something, like every new sucker who could throw a punch. Ever since she was told it was the only way she'd get a quest, she'd been desperately looking for a major demigod. Although with current events, if there is a child of the big three running around, now would be the most likely - and worst - time for them to come forward.

Wincing in the bright morning sun, head jangling with stupid ideas about material compression that would never work, I headed towards the jetty. On one side, over to my right, a group of hot Aphrodite girls were giggling and gossiping; I couldn't see anyone I knew. Annabeth stood on the opposite side of the jetty, watching the group milling around the canoes and pointedly ignoring the gaggle. She faced away from me with her arms crossed, trademark cap stuffed into her back jeans pocket as usual. Long blonde hair caught up in a hasty ponytail, shimmering in the summer light. She may not be my type, but I couldn't help admiring the curves. She turned as I approached, my own trademark (a frown) furrowing my brow.

"Morning." She said. I grunted in response. She knew I didn't talk much, and I liked the fact that she didn't try to push conversation.

"What am I doing here?" I asked. I probably sounded irritated, but I didn't mind too much really. Annabeth isn't the sort of person to summon me to the other sound of the camp for no reason.

"Watching. If I'm right, it'll be interesting." She gestured to the campers, who were mostly in their canoes at this point and moving away from shore. Julian, the supervisor, and someone I didn't recognise stood by the water edge talking heatedly. Julian was pretty short, Hermes demigods tended to vary a lot in that department, and the new guy towered over him. Like, dwarfed him. Julian gesticulated as the giant stood with arms crossed and shook his head impassively.

"That the new guy?" Annabeth nodded in response. "Big." I added. She nodded again.

Julian seemed to win the discussion, the new guy moving towards a canoe shaking his head with a resigned look on his face. Annabeth shifted, watching intently. I sighed quietly, my hands twitching with nothing to tinker with. A few minutes went by as the campers rowed out towards the centre of the lake. The newbie stayed apart from the rest, looking out of place in the small boat. His head constantly moved from side to side as he gripped the paddle. He had seemed at ease and confident on land, but once on the water he seemed uncertain.

"Something supposed to be happening?" I muttered. Annabeth didn't reply. The mirror smooth surface of the lake was disturbed by small ripples propagating from the paddles dipping in and out of the water as Julian marshalled the boats and tried to organise them for the usual activities. I frowned. Annabeth noticed as well – she tensed and took a small step forward. A larger wave was quickly spreading from a point near the entrance to the lake, on the seaward side. Something had broken the surface for a second then gone under. The tall demigod in the canoe seemed to have noticed it too – whilst the other campers were still splashing around unaware, he moved his gaze to the sky with his paddle across his lap and shook his head. Praying to the gods? I didn't get any more time to think about it as the water around the lone canoe began frothing and boiling.

The man leapt to his feet, somehow keeping his balance on the rocking surface, paddle in hand. A Ketos, sea monster, resembling a giant squid burst out of the water: tentacles flayed wildly, batted swiftly away by the paddle. It wasn't a large monster, barely larger than the canoe; it latched onto the boat, a few suckers grasping at the paddle. With a crack one blade snapped off, thrown into the water by an angry tentacle. Without hesitation, the paddle whirled - slapping a few tentacles away in the process before driving down into the open mouth of the beast. The sharp, splintered end pierced the gelatinous flesh. With a whistling shriek, the tentacles withdrew and slunk back into the water. The surface grew still. The other campers had noticed the attack and were frantically rowing back to shore, shouting and some screaming. The new guy's canoe was sinking fast, a good chunk of the hull ripped away – Julian rowed over to him and escorted him as he swam back to shore. Annabeth was grinning.

"How did that happen?" I asked, "How'd something get through the shield?" Annabeth turned her smile on me.

"A god made the shield. A god can get something through." She said over her shoulder as she walked down to the shore. I shook my head and followed her longer steps. The campers were busy shouting and pointing back at the lake as we arrived, just as the soaked demigod emerged from the water. Damn he was tall. He waved Julian off, coming instead towards Annabeth with a raised eyebrow.

"Happy?" he asked, folding his arms and looking down at her, hair and clothes plastered to his skin and dripping copious amounts of water. Damn he was big. She nodded, looking back over the water.

"It was useful." She replied.

"I told you it wouldn't end well." The rumbling voice replied as he checked his shirt and jeans for any damage or weeds. I couldn't help but notice Annabeth eyes doing the same.

"And now I believe you. This is Charles Beckendorf, head of Hephaestus cabin." She said, gesturing to me. "And this is Perseus Jackson, unclaimed." She added, emphasising the last word with slight sarcasm. We checked each other over; Perseus was a good head taller than me, and easily as broad. I probably still had the weight advantage, my barrel chest and frankly awesome arms making up for his superior height and lithe form. He offered his hand, dark eyes watching me. I took it without hesitation, both of us gripping firmly – this guy had just fought off a sea monster with a paddle and was acting like he had just gone for a morning swim. Gotta respect that. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Annabeth frowning slightly at the handshake.

"You beat up some Ares campers yesterday." I said flatly.

"Always fun." He replied, equally nonchalant and terse. I like him. Behind Perseus, I could hear Julian telling everyone they should go to Luke at combat practice early. A low groan rose from the crowd, and they started moving uphill – each slowing and whispering to each other as they passed Perseus. This dude was making ripples already.


	4. Claimed

**Things need to move along, so I skipped a lot of the training montage stuff and went right to point. This is the first display of Percy's power in this story, and there will be more to come. Leave a review if you want, and thanks for reading**

The rain misted through the trees, drawing veils over the forest. Tall trees, caked in moss and vibrant foliage, stood resolute in the rare downfall. The undergrowth was sparse, wide paths trampled between them by weighted feet. A shallow stream gurgled by, deep boot prints in the soft loam either side of its narrow width. The quiet sounds of rain dripping from the leaves was surmounted by distant shouts and clashing metal.

I drew my coat tighter around my shoulders, hand brushing the knife hilt at my waistband. Looking upward, I adjusted my position under the wide bough above to mask the tell-tale sign of an invisible shape in the falling rain. Taking care to keep quiet, I resumed my watch. The tall man stood impassively. A classic Greek helmet with a short blue horsehair crest flanked his cheeks, leading down to an oversized breastplate – the only size we could find for someone his height is designed for someone a little… chunkier. His left hand held a round shield, his right a long spear. A short sword hung at his hip. A standard loadout. I'd assigned him to the deep cover patrol, right on the border between the two sides of the game. There are half a dozen of them strung along the line, followed by an area of randomly positioned sentries of increasing density going towards our flags location. A basic defensive setup, with plenty of troops in reserve and ready to rush towards any disturbance whilst Luke led an offensive into enemy territory. I'd put Perseus here because it was the best chance to see him in armed combat with – I wanted to know more about his abilities. And I'd be lying if I said I hadn't intentionally put him in an exposed position.

I'd surreptitiously watched his training over the past few days, but he hadn't given anything away. Luke had been too busy keeping his vast cabin running to help me assess his strengths and weaknesses. My cabin was fine running autonomously for a while, of course. Sometimes Beckendorf would drop by, barely saying anything and judging Perseus' performance. I think they'd made friends, I saw them talking every now and then but whenever I asked Beckendorf what they were talking about he just shrugged and muttered about weapons and motorbikes. Boys.

The shouting had become more distant, the fighting moving further into enemy territory as Luke pushed for the flag. Whatever happened here, at least we'd probably win. A sharp crack rang out as a branch broke underfoot. Through the mist, red armour and a blue spark emerged.

Clarisse left the shadows, flanked by six Ares campers. Morons one through four were there, along with two titanic female newcomers; all armed to the teeth with high-quality weapons and stylised armour. The Hephaestus smiths, I knew, hated working for them – but Ares is a powerful cabin, so the favours and artefacts they supplied were the currency. But Clarisse had a special weapon, a gift from her father. A long spear, barbed and shod in celestial bronze, it was a heavy and deadly weapon even without the electrified tip. I'd seen her opponents spend days in the medical tent from just touching the thing. This was the last test. Even if he wasn't claimed, I'd know for sure who his godly parent was. Or Clarisse would have killed him.

The snarl on her face was a mask of pure hatred, mirrored by her cronies. Quickly, they moved into position – this time fully surrounding the stationary opponent. Since he was stood at the edge of the stream, two of them had crossed and were now on our side of the forest – if they weren't Ares cabin, I would have worried about them burrowing into our territory – but they were too absorbed (and stupid) to make the tactical move.

"You made us look bad." Clarisse spat, baring her spear threateningly.

"You do that yourselves." Came the calm reply. A brave move, insulting these meatheads. And by brave, I mean incredibly arrogant. Clarisse snarled, moving forwards slowly. No more talking then – one line and she'd exhausted her wit. The moron brigade stood their ground – they knew Clarisse wanted this. I watched the speartip, flashing with arcs of electricity as it slowly drifted forward. A smile broke through the shadows that darkened the lone fighters face. He let his spear and shield drop to the ground. Cocky. Astonishingly, incredibly over-confident. Idiot.

Clarisse hesitated for a second, her under-developed brain struggling to understand what was happening. Perseus sank into a ready stance, arms angled away from his body in a 'come-at-me' pose. Gods, I want him to lose this fight now. Clarisse jumped forward, jabbing the deadly spear towards the exposed torso. I was torn between wanting him to survive and get me out into the real world, and being fried to a crisp. Whichever way, I could live with it.

Perseus' large hands flew out, catching the spear behind the tip. The magic spear pulsated as sparks and bolts of electricity wrapped themselves around his forearms. A shout of victory diminished into a confused exclamation as Clarisse gaped at Perseus and tried to wrench her spear back. The sparks grew brighter and more frequent, the spear trembling with power. Thunder rolled over the scene like a bass trumpet, unaccompanied by lightning. Perseus ripped the spear from Clarisse's numb hands, spinning it effortlessly and planting the spear butt in the soaked ground. For the first time, I noticed he was dry. Clarisse swore, leaping back and barking orders to her minions as she drew her sword. They charged together.

The spear span like a lethal rotor blade, whirling through the air and leaving a bright blue trail from the tip like some form of long-exposure photography. Spears and swords jabbed forward in unison; blades flashing in the uneven light. Perseus knocked them aside with ease, shocks running down the assailant's arms and throwing some of them back, writhing in agony. Those who had retained their feet continued the attack, swinging wildly and roaring with rage as Perseus deflected the blows expertly. The blue light got faster and faster, brighter and brighter as the spear spun, bolts of electricity beginning to arc through the rain to the metal on the Ares warriors' weapons and armour. Thunder split the air, louder and closer than before, almost deafening. Perseus brought the spear down, smashing the butt into the ground with the loudest clap of thunder yet. bolts of lightning spiked from the spear tip, catching the attackers and throwing them to the ground. The light burned itself into my retinas, leaving a bizarre web pattern.

Those who were conscious desperately crawled and limped away, leaving two groaning in the growing mud and driving rain. Clarisse was helping one of them limp away, glancing back over her shoulder with fear flashing in her eyes. The thunder slowly died down, the rain following suit – the clouds remained, forbidding power lurking in the heavy billows of stormy darkness. I blinked. Damn. The afterglow faded from my vision as I looked back to Perseus. He stood, gazing at the sky as I'd seen him do so many times already, the ground at his feet littered with the weapons and trampled mud. The spear was charred, the remains of the tip a piece of smouldering scrap. Gods.

"Didn't think you should help?" He asked quietly, tossing the spear onto the ground and turning his head towards me. At this point, I wasn't even surprised he knew I was here.

"Didn't think it would be polite. Besides, it's not like you needed my help." I replied, removing my treasured cap and stepping out into the clearing. Perseus snorted, stretching his back and wincing slightly. He had made short work of his assailants, but the dramatic finale had clearly drained him somewhat - the arrogant demeanour was gone, replaced by an almost regretful expression. There was absolutely no doubt in my mind now about his lineage.

The sound of breaking branches and pounding feet nearby broke my train of thought, bringing me back to the present. Shouting and cursing told me that the fight had moved towards us – from the colourful choice of insults, it must be our team bringing the flag back. I scanned the trees, but the racket passed us to one side and concealed by the thick trees. Soon after, the horn sounded and the cursing was joined by cheering.

The teams had been uneven from the start, with Hermes (the largest cabin) and Athena (the smartest cabin) against Ares (I've said enough to give you an idea of their moniker), both with a smattering of non-combat oriented – and therefore useless – cabins like Aphrodite or Dionysus. Hephaestus was on our side, made up of a lot of burly demigods that weren't really interested in fighting. They could be useful, but most weren't very enthusiastic. Even Beckendorf was more of a gentle giant, preferring to do his monster killing remotely with some magical contraption. Our superior numbers and tactical knowledge led us to victory (with no small amount of planning on my part), and I pretty much confirmed that Perseus is my ticket to glory. All in all, not a bad game of capture the flag. Although I'm still partially blind from the lightning strikes.

Snapping out of my reverie, I realised that campers were beginning to gather around the scene after the usual Ares post-game shouting match. An air of anticipation and awe was spreading as the details of the fight were shared in hushed whispers. I joined the crowd as it formed a nervous circle around Perseus. He still stood unmoving, his face registering slight unease at the attention he was receiving. Chiron lightly trotted through the milling mass of people, coming to a stop beside me. Beckendorf pushed through the crowd to form up on my other side – there was a cluster of campers within the mass gathered around the waving flag, their cheerful victorious chanting slowly dying down to the same muted level as the others.

Thunder crashed again, like a rolling wave that rose to a shattering crescendo. A blinding flash of lightning split the air, smashing into the ground at Perseus' feet accompanied by a terrifying wave of heat and sound. When the blazing light cleared, a smouldering crater half a foot deep had been bored into the flash-dried loam. Something glistened in the earth, a small round object embedded in the hole. Whispering broke out again, along with exclamations of pain and wonder. Perseus knelt, reaching down. I started forward to warn him – whatever it was, it would be red hot – but Chiron put out an arm to stop me. I looked up at him, confused, but he just shook his head slightly and switched his gaze back to Perseus. When his hand withdrew from the crater, a large silver coin was nestled in his palm. Silence reigned. Perseus gazed at it for a full second, then looked up to Chiron. His only response was to kneel slowly, his front legs folding at the knees.

"Hail, Perseus, Son of Zeus." Chiron intoned, bowing his head. I knew it. I knelt beside my mentor, my knee sinking into the wet earth and staining my jeans. Like a collapsing section of the earth's crust during an earthquake, the camp bowed. I strained to look upwards at Perseus without raising my head. He stood resolute, his face a mask composed of anger and indifference. His brow furrowed as he scanned the downturned faces of the awed campers. His hand clenched around the coin and he stalked away, turning his back to the campers. They looked at each other in confusion. After a quick look from Chiron, Luke handed the flag away and jogged after Perseus. Probably to get him moved into the Zeus cabin. A tiny thrill of adrenaline coursed through me. A major demigod, claimed and given a quest. Finally. Gods damn it, I could barely see for the afterglow.

Blinking rapidly, I led my cabin back to the camp proper.

Tomorrow, I leave.


	5. Prophecy

**To answer some background questions (from reviews, yaaay** **), for now the only gods featured in this story are Greek. Other mythologies are suppressed for the time being, I like to think because of the oncoming war and Kronos' awakening, so the gods' other personas are absent and their children inactive. For now at least. No, Percy isn't gay here. Yes, Percabeth is going to be a thing, but not over the top or even very soon.** **With regard to the perspectives, I'm sticking with Annabeth and Beckendorf for now. The first paragraph should give you an idea on which is which.**

 **A little shout out to my reviewers, Nebular Reaper and Death Fury (my name feels inadequate in your company), for helping me vocalise my thoughts and set a few things straight. Anyhow, on with the story. This is the last chapter of setup before the quest begins :O**

 **Enjoy.**

Tiny gears and levers twirled and pirouetted beneath the smooth glass surface set into the hard silver body of my watch, turning the many hands with clockwork precision. It's only a watch, but it's a damn good looking one – a favourite project of mine. People often commented how amazing it was that I could manipulate such tiny workings and tools with my seemingly blunt and clumsy fingers; but I never have any trouble tinkering. I don't really know how; my fingers seem to just do what I want them too without dropping or breaking anything delicate – the only downside being the restlessness that came when they had nothing to fiddle with. The watch was needlessly complicated for that exact reason – the tiny, intricate gears and springs were enough of a challenge to take my mind off my hands inactivity for a few minutes as it tried to map and simulate the beautiful workings, otherwise I couldn't sit still. Across the table and off to one side, Luke shifted uncomfortably. Something about his whole demeanour since the epic conclusion to yesterday's game was… off, but I couldn't quite place it. I never could; my brain was better at figuring out machines than people. I sighed in boredom. I'm always bored.

Around the porch table sat most of the other camp heads, with the notable absence of Clarisse. I half smiled – doubt she's be showing her face for a while. As always, there were four other empty chairs. But today, one of them wouldn't be so empty. Annabeth side a few places away, drumming her fingers on the latticed table surface. A tactical thinker, she was usually stone still and staring off into space with a look of intense concentration; but today, she was nervous. Heck, so was I: none of us had ever dealt with a major demigod before, and over the past week the only one present had shown himself to be a serious threat. The prophecy, half remembered, floated into my mind: _To raise, or raze._ Gods I hate the English language, a few letters completely changing the meaning of a word from good to really, really bad. Dionysus finished another can of coke. I could probably set my watch by the rate he went through them.

A muted thunk from a door deep inside the large farmhouse snapped everyone into the present, their attention now fixed on the sliding door. Heavy footsteps echoed towards us as he approached, his face fixed in a pensive frown. Pretty normal reaction to meeting the oracle – she tended to confuse anyone that so much as smelled her desiccated hippy beads. Rolling his neck, Perseus sat at his chair at the head of the table. Chiron shifted in this magical wheelchair and I had to consciously turn back to Perseus to stop myself thinking about its mechanics. Perseus inhaled deeply before speaking in a deep, rhythmic tone.

" _West you will travel to challenge the hatred of night, but from that shadow will be rekindled a long-lost light. You shall safely return that which was taken, but through betrayal your trust will be shaken. Faced with a contest gods would flee, your power is revealed, and your pain in victory. Through your efforts, a war could be fought; then darkness unveiled, in death all lives caught."_

As prophecies go, that is a doozy. At least we got a vague idea which direction we would be going. If he takes me – part of me hopes he won't, that he'll leave me to my workshop and peaceful camp life. But the god in me was raring to go: willing Perseus to say my name and ask me to join him on one of the most important quests of all time. Obviously, he would choose Annabeth; even if she hadn't been prophesised to go, she was the clear choice to take on a mission like this. Perseus gazed at the tables surface thoughtfully.

" _You shall safely return that which was taken"_ Annabeth repeated. "That's a good sign." Some nods and murmurs of agreement went around the table. Perseus frowned.

"What exactly was taken? No-ones been very forthcoming with me, and I wasn't exactly on the grid before I came here." Perseus asked. "I've gathered it's something to do with my father." He added. Everyone's eyes turned towards Chiron. The centaur sighed.

"Godly symbols of power. Poseidon's trident and Zeus' masterbolt. That we know of. And they both blame each other" Chiron reluctantly replied. Even at the mention of the stolen artefacts caused the counsellors to flinch and mutter. Perseus nodded.

"At the summer solstice, I'm guessing." He responded. Annabeth gave him a sharp look, nodding in agreement. "The only time both weapons would be together. Whoever took them wanted to turn the gods to turn on each other." He continued.

"And it's working – the gods are already taking sides, shaping up for World War Three." Annabeth replied. Perseus nodded.

"As they would. I'm guessing the sides are forming around Zeus and Poseidon like last time." Perseus muttered.

"With Hades on the sidelines, quietly building his forces." Luke drawled, chiming in for the first time. I glanced at him, scanning his face. The scarred mask was twisted into a sardonic smile. Somehow, I felt it wasn't genuine, but rather masking something other than cynicism.

"So Poseidon and Zeus both lost their symbols of power, and Hades is building his army. Three guesses who the 'hatred of night' refers to." Lee Fletcher chipped in, the Apollo counsellor.

"From that shadow will be rekindled a long-lost light." Annabeth murmured quietly. "Any idea what that means?" Her voice died to a whisper as she turned to Perseus. I wasn't surprised that she faltered – his face was fixed in a pained expression, jaw working. Silence reigned. Perseus suddenly snapped upright, expression neutral.

"It's a prophecy, we'll find out after it's happened. I'm more concerned about the 'betrayal'." He said, a little too loudly.

"Like you said, it's a prophecy. They're deliberately vague." Annabeth said.

I could tell she was done with the rhyming nonsensical discussion, and was desperate to get to the next item on the agenda. No-one wanted to think about the other lines of the prophecy. Chiron, as attuned to the conversation as always, knew what she was itching to hear.

"I think we've learned everything we can from the verses. It's clear that you have been tasked with retrieving – at the very least – Zeus' masterbolt. As is tradition, you may choose two demigods to assist with your quest." Chiron proclaimed, gesturing around the table for at the demigods the counsellors represented. He nodded absently.

"And once you have prepared, Argus will take you as far as the city. You will have to find your own way from there." Chiron prompted. Perseus snapped out of his reverie, nodding again.

"I'll take Annabeth and Beckendorf. We'll leave after breakfast." He said, confidently and succinctly. The part of me that was dreading those words seemed to have disappeared – replaced by an adrenaline fuelled idiot. Annabeth grinned. She'd been waiting for this for a long time – whilst everyone told her it was never going to happen and that she was wasting her time. I could tell how relieved she was – and apprehensive. This wasn't going to be easy. As I was preparing to stand and get my gear, Perseus spoke again.

"What I'm most concerned about is who wants the gods fighting each other. A war between them leaves Olympus exposed – and there are far worse things that could be the primary power in this world than our absentee parents."

Maybe he was right. I contemplated all the unclaimed demigods squatting in the Hermes cabin. I couldn't help but think that their godly parents would feel the same resentment towards their parents as their abandoned children. Convincing them to revolt wouldn't be exactly hard, and with his history and domain, Hades had the motivation and forces to do it. And of all the gods, he was the one I least wanted to piss off. And it looks like he's the one we're going to face.

Great.


End file.
